There has always been a fantasyland vibe at golf’s annual Palm Springs tournament, the old and arid Desert Classic. You know: How is it possible that there’s a golf tourney out there at all? That’s been the case going back to when the event was a five-round pro-am with Bob Hope running the show, and it’s still true now, as the four-round American Express. Of course, nobody told that to Scottie Scheffler, the world’s best golfer, that the AmEx is really one big magic trick. He won the Amex on Sunday without drama or fuss. He performed no cartwheels.
Scheffler, with his pirate’s beard and unassuming demeanor, is so not desert. But he golfed his ball from emerald-green desert fairways and sleeping rough the color of hay and over manmade ponds, taking prisoners in his usual and genial way. The future World Golf Hall of Fame inductee (Pinehurst, 2041) put on a putting clinic on greens as smooth and flat as the felt on a new pool table. The only person who could have beaten him was Tiger 2000, and Tiger 2000 has left the building. Scheffler isn’t filling the void. He’s being Scheffler and that’s more than enough.
I have gone to the desert to sample this tournament — taking in the golf carts with Bentley rooflines and IMAX sound systems — and maybe you have, too. But this year I watched on TV, and I’m guessing you did, too. For almost 70 years, this tournament in the desert has sold sunshine along with a parade of golfers and, back in the day, celebrities. In 2026 that was as true as ever.
Outside, our neighborhood streets were silent and still as snow continued to fall and swirl. There was no choice but to “shelter in place.” (Originally a Cold War phrase.) But on TV, the fantasyland vibe was alive and well. Scheffler could beat the others handily, but the magic of TV is still the magic of TV. Professional golf would be lost without it. Thank you for your service, Scottie. A long Sunday has come and gone.
In other golf news, Rory McIlroy (among many others) said the other day he’d like to see the British Open return to one of the best courses in the world, Muirfield, in Scotland, in sight and sound of the Firth of Forth. (Jack Nicklaus named his course outside Columbus, Ohio, for it.) Others would like to see the Open return to Turnberry, now called Trump Turnberry. It’s a spectacular course, Hawaii on Scotland’s craggy West Coast, where Tom Watson won Opens in 2009 (well, he won something) and in 1977, by a shot over Nicklaus.
The R&A has shown no interest in being associated with Donald Trump. The PGA of America and the USGA, the same. The PGA Tour will touch down at Trump Doral in late April. LIV Golf will do the same in August, at the Trump course in Bedminster, N.J. These facts-of-life, golf-style, will be in our future news feed. On Sunday, they were not. We could go into a little cocoon, at least for an afternoon. On Monday morning, four U.S. senators released an indignant letter they sent to the Department of Interior, seeking to find out the Trump administration’s plans for public golf in the capital.
Over the weekend, Augusta found itself covered in ice and snow. That’s news in Augusta, Ga., (the reference here) and not, of course, Augusta, Maine. That’s bad news for the construction work being done at The Patch, the beloved Augusta muni. It’s good news for azalea-watchers come Masters week. Warm winters lead to early blooming, and that’s been a problem for some years now. It won’t be this year. Sunday, April 12, should be magnificent. Rory will put a green coat on somebody, unless that somebody is his own self. Another day of cocoon living. Is that so bad? There actually is a correct answer: No, it’s not. It’s necessary.
Did you watch this Blades Brown over the weekend? Eighteen years old and he had a putt for 59 on Saturday? On Sunday he played with Scottie Scheffler and tried to play his way into this week’s tournament at Torrey Pines. Maybe you have teenagers in the house. Maybe you found yourself wondering what you would do, if you were the parent of a true golfing savant with a teen in the child’s age. McIlroy turned pro as a teenager. Arnold Palmer was nearly 25 when he turned pro, after a stint in the Coast Guard and as a paint salesman in Cleveland. His first full year on tour was in 1955.
In 1973, he won Bob Hope’s tournament for the fifth time. He loved the desert, the break from the snow and cold of Latrobe, Pa., where he and Winnie raised their daughters and even Bay Hill, in Orlando, where citrus growers always worried about fruit-killing frosts this time of year. Winnie Palmer followed Arnold to the desert with some reluctance — the whole fantasyland thing was not for her — but she enjoyed her outdoor winter swims all the same. In victory, Scheffler and wife and child were eager to get on their plane and head home to Dallas, back to the real world. Dallas was getting snow and tarmacs were iced over, but that’s where Scheffler wanted to be. He’s a homebody but his game travels well.
Michael Bamberger welcomes your comments at Michael.Bamberger@golf.com
